


Let's go for a Walk

by Nutelladoo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, I'm bad at tags, M/M, Phil is a sweetheart, car crash, just read the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutelladoo/pseuds/Nutelladoo
Summary: "I pull him in close, scouring his thin body for any sign of imperfection other than the side-effects of the crash that tore away his ability to walk without hassle along with his ability to sleep soundly at night without interruption."
-----
The aftermath of a nearly fatal car crash, Dan's legs are nearly paralyzed and he doesn't know if he can deal with in. Phil doesn't know he if he can deal with Dan not being able to deal with it.





	

"Stop it!" 

"No, no I. I can-"

My heart all but stops as he stumbles, landing precariously on the edge of his bed as I pull him in close, scouring his thin body for any sign of imperfection other than the side-effects of the crash that tore away his ability to walk without hassle along with his ability to sleep soundly at night without interruption. 

He starts trying to struggle away, a grim look of determination tattooed onto his face as I carefully pin him to the bed with a kind of soft forcefulness that I never knew I possessed. 

"That's enough, Dan!" I yap, wincing as he flinches at the harsh clip to my tone; I think this is the first time that I've ever denied my boyfriend anything. "The doctor said not to try without your physiotherapist around." He scowls up at me, eyes slits but still seeping a toxic quantity of venom. "No, Dan. Just lay back and let me look after you, it's not that hard."

"Try saying that when you're the one who might not walk properly again."

Dan looks away, something akin to guilt swirling relentlessly in his features like a storm, leaving me to just gawp at him in complete shock. This isn't Dan, this isn't the boy that stole my heart and replaced it with his own. This is some defeated cynic, too lost to his own self-pity to see that this is killing me almost as much as it's killing him.

I don't think he's smiled once since the accident. Actually, that's a lie; he completely blew me away with the beam he shot me when he first woke up, just happy to see me after two weeks of a near-fatal slumber. But then he realised there were wires in him, that his head was aching like it was hooked up to an electric chair and then, then there was his legs. 

He hasn't smiled since. And neither have I. Or rather, I have, but only in my bids to make him smile back; not once has my grin been true. 

I'm ripped away from my thoughts by the sound of sniffles, a sound that I've become far too wretchedly familiar with these past few weeks, and quickly tilt my boyfriend's head up to face me; just as I thought. The poor thing's crying. Again. And there's nothing I can do to make it better. 

"Oh, Dan."

He blinks up at me, looking so heartbroken that it breaks my own heart in two right along with it. It really isn't fair, is it? He's twenty-five; he should be worrying about what brand of beer to buy, not whether or not he'll ever get to walk again. 

I pull him into my lap, ever mindful of his healing wounds, and shudder as his legs remain mostly limp. Sure, he can just about stand on them for a few seconds with support, but it's absolute agony for him. That's why I hate taking him to physiotherapy; he always ends up in tears no matter how hard he tries to blink them away. It's not just tears of pain though, if only. It's tears of hopelessness too, something far more dangerous to him than his physical wounds ever could be. 

"Shush, Lamb, shush now." I know my words are useless, that he's probably crying too hard right now to even hear me but that doesn't matter. I've got to say something at least. "It's going to be alright. I just know it. And when you're all better maybe I can finally get that hamster I've been wanting but you'll have to help me look after it. You can be the mummy and I can be the daddy, yeah?"

It's a risky strategy, trying to divert the conversation away from the horrendous situation we're in, but it's the only one I've got. The last time I actually tried talking to him about what would happen if his inability to walk were to be permanent, he broke down entirely; locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out, very nearly giving me a heart attack in the process.  

He wriggles around a bit, finding that special comfy position nestled in between my ribs and tummy, before gazing up at me with still-teary eyes. God, he's beautiful. Even when he's all red and blotchy he's still flawless. 

"What can we call our hamster, Philly?" He murmurs, eyes already getting heavy with today's exertions. "Can we give it a people name?"

"Sure we can." I stop to think, raiding my mind for something I can say that might just make him smile. "What about Simon? Y'know, after the shrimp?" He nods eagerly, snuggling deep into my torso as though it's a lifeline. "Okay, we can get a hamster called Simon. Promise."

"When I get better, yeah?" His tone is full of hope, something so fragile and precious that I'm finding it hard to breathe through fear of breaking it. "We can both walk to the pet shop together and get him." He offers me a small smile and I cling onto it, knowing that it could be an excruciatingly long time before I see the sight again. "It will happen, won't it, Phil? I'll walk and you'll laugh and we'll both look after Simon together!"

He sounds so... childlike. Full of innocence and hope, so desperate to forget the odds the doctor gave him on ever walking again. This optimism, this hope, it's kind of cruel, I think. I mean, what happens when his hopes get destroyed by the harshness of reality? He'll die inside, that's what'll happen. I've already spoken to PJ and Chris about it, both of whom are as worried as I am about the lethalness of Dan's hope, but they're about as clueless about it as me. 

I guess I'll just have to be here for him, holding his hand every time he hurts and helping him back up every time he falls; it's what I'm made for.

"Yeah, Dan. It'll happen. I know it will."

He stares at me, eyes swallowing me whole in a way that makes me feel ever so slightly uneasy in ways that his eyes have never done before. It's almost as if he's looking for something that he knows won't be there no matter how hard he looks. 

"No. No you don't. And neither do I." His eyes start to well with sorrow and I grab his hand, squeezing it in my own until he looks back up at me. "Do you even think that it's possible, Phil?"

Honestly? I don't know anymore. If I were a doctor I think that I'd say no. Hell, even as a clueless onlooker I doubt that I'd say yes. But as someone who knows Daniel Howell better than anyone? I think he's got a shot, because that's just who my Dan is; determined and brave and strong. 

"Yeah, Dan, I do." I lean down and peck his nose, forcing his eyes to light up like fireworks. "I believe in you."

And just like that, for the first time in a long time without any sense of misery or pain, Daniel Howell smiles. Truly and properly smiles.

"I believe in you."


End file.
